


The Norbury Possibility

by AngelQueen



Category: Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Community: holmestice, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, POV First Person, POV John Watson, Sherlock Holmes has much to learn, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: John Watson eats dinner with his friend, Sherlock Holmes, shortly after his recovery from Colney Hatch. Their discussion turns to Holmes' wayward sister, Enola.A slight reworking of the final scene ofThe Case of the Bizarre Bouquets.





	The Norbury Possibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/gifts).



> Written for Holmestice Summer 2018.

“You would still be in Colney Hatch still if it were not for my sister.”

This is the first time my good friend has willingly mentioned his sister to me, and I know him well enough to know that it costs him dearly to speak of her, much less to admit that she had solved the mystery of my disappearance where he had failed to. I take care not to act as though the subject is one of any remarkability, and reply evenly, “Ah. Your sister.” The mysterious Enola Holmes. 

In truth, I do not know what to make of her. I had, of course, never been formally introduced to the girl, and had only glimpsed her but once, and that only briefly, as I had been occupied with the patient she had all but thrown into our arms. I do have the description given to me by Mycroft, of course. 

 

_“She has been allowed to run wild without the guiding hand of a governess,” Mycroft informed me, his broad face set into an expression of cool displeasure. “She is uncouth, and completely lacking in any of the social graces required of a young lady of good breeding. It is unconscionable, Dr. Watson, that my mother has permitted this to go on, but nonetheless, it is how matters stand, and my brother and I must bring the girl to heel before she irrevocably ruins herself in the eyes of all society.”_

 

A rather damning statement, to be sure, and indeed, it is one that I passed on to the assistant of that charlatan, Dr. Ragostin, though I admit to leaving some of the more vehement statements out of the description I provided. 

And yet, it is this girl who Mycroft calls ‘uncouth’ and ‘wild’ who is responsible for my delivery from imprisonment in an asylum for the insane. Holmes himself admits as much, that it was Enola’s investigation that bore the fruit of my deliverance, not his own. My friend admitted that he completely overlooked the line of inquiry that led to my whereabouts. Enola saw what he did not. In light of that kind of revelation, ‘uncouth’ and ‘wild’ are not words I would use to describe such a girl. ‘Extraordinary’ might be a better one. 

Still, watching my friend now, I do not see the disapproval that had so cloaked Mycroft. Instead, I see a much more thoughtful expression, though what those thoughts are I could not begin to know. “What do you make of your sister, Holmes?” I ask, unable to stop the words. Holmes had not taken kindly to my questions on the subject of his sister kindly in the past, his response being such that it had prompted me to visit Mycroft in the first place.

He does not reply immediately, having lost himself in the confines of his own thoughts as he has so often done, even when in a public place like Simpson’s-on-the-Strand. When his response comes, it contains none of the disapprobation that I had seen in Mycroft. “I think,” Holmes says, “that it is a great pity she will not trust in me.”

Just as Holmes had not answered my question in haste, so too do I not respond quickly to his words. In truth, I am not entirely certain what to say. Enola Holmes has proven to be every bit the enigma her brothers are, and just as I know I will never fully understand either of the brothers, I will likely never understand the sister and her motivations. 

The girl ran away when her brothers enrolled her in a boarding school after their mother’s disappearance, and from what little we have heard from her indicates that the boarding school is what she is running from, which meant she must run from the brothers who wished to put her there. I had not understood her reasons doing so, and from what I can see, neither do either of her brothers. For lack of any other explanation, it seems that the brothers have attributed her behavior to the lax circumstances of her upbringing under the care of their mother. I, upon reflection, could not bring myself to settle for such a simple explanation, but, being quite unable to fathom the mind of a young girl, decided to turn to someone far wiser than I for advice on the subject.

 

_My dear Mary, normally so bright and cheerful, was quite solemn and serious when I broached the subject with her. “Ah, husband, it makes perfect sense to any woman why Miss Enola would choose to run from such a fate, given the opportunity.” At my confused look, she continued, “Boarding schools can be… hazardous to the health of a young woman, my dear. Their ideas of proper comportment and dress can be called… medieval, along with their methods of instilling those ideas.”_

_I stared at her. In my own school years, boys were often subjected to caning and other such methods for correction and behavior, but I had never thought of it in a negative light. Young boys tend to be wild, and needed a firm hand. Whatever could my wife mean?_

_“Bear in mind that I have not seen such things firsthand,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. Sitting it back down, she continued. “I have seen the aftermath, however. More than one lady employed me to teach her daughters because she was terrified to see them subjected to the same vile treatment she was in her younger days.” Mary shook her head. “I didn’t believe it, at first. I spent years in a boarding school, under the care of some of the loveliest people you could ever meet. They taught me well, trained me in skills that would enable me to support myself. Surely it was the same way everywhere?” She gave him a sad look. “But it isn’t, John. More than one of them showed me the scars, showed me what corsets had done to them in the name of fashion. They were horrific.”_

_Any response I might have made had long since died in my throat. Mary had told me many stories of her time at the boarding school she had grown up in, and I too had taken for granted that all schools for young ladies were much the same. But the things Mary was describing…_

_“And you said that Miss Holmes’ mother is a Suffragist?” Mary asked, and then nodded to herself. “Very likely the lady knew of these things, if she had not experienced them herself, and informed her daughter of them. When Mr. Mycroft Holmes ordered her to attend a boarding school, it was probably as though he was invoking her darkest fears. I don’t find it all that surprising that she ran from her brothers, if that was what awaited her. A girl who, from what I have been told, is in much the same mould as her brothers, brilliant and unique, would not fit in well in such places.”_

 

I have not yet told my friend of what my wife confided to me about the boarding schools. In truth, Holmes has said little to nothing of sending his sister off to an institution of any kind. Instead, he appears to have focused simply on locating her, on assuring her immediate safety. But even should Holmes find a way to bring Enola back under the wing of her brothers’ protection, sooner or later, the issue of the boarding schools will come up again. Mycroft’s determination to see his sister educated in a manner befitting her station will see to that, and given what I have learned of Enola’s character, she will push back with equal resolve. Should Holmes side with his brother, he stands to lose his sister’s regard and trust for good. 

“Surely she cannot think so lowly of me as to think I would not look after her,” Holmes says, oblivious to my own racing thoughts. “Is it not the duty of a brother to care for his sister, to see to her protection until she finds herself a husband to take over the duty?”

I open my mouth, thinking that surely this is the moment to explain what Mary told me, of what might happen in the course of providing her the ‘protection’ he and Mycroft seem to think essential for a girl of Enola’s standing. I do not get a chance, however, as Holmes chooses that moment to shake himself from his thoughts. He sets down the empty glass he has been contemplating for some time and makes to rise.

“Forgive me, my dear Watson,” he says, “I have kept you over long. Surely you have been wishing to return home to your wife, who has held up rather well under the strain of recent days, given the tendencies of her sex to faint at the first sign of emotional distress. I have always thought of Mrs. Watson as made of sterner stuff than most ladies of my acquaintance.”

Our time together now is at an end, it seems. I know my friend well enough to know that his mind is already moving onto other subjects. Perhaps those subjects still pertain to his sister, perhaps not. 

For a moment, it on the tip of my tongue to mention Norbury, just as he once urged me to do should I ever see a need for it. But something urges me to hold my tongue, a man does not last long as a soldier by ignoring his instincts.

Enola Holmes has been evading my friend and his brother for months now, and has even been acting as a kind of competition for Holmes, solving cases and essentially leading both men around by their noses as they seek to run her to ground. She is not just surviving on her own, she seems to be thriving.

Perhaps Enola will invoke the spectre of Norbury far better through her actions than I ever could with the mere word.


End file.
